Foundling
by Piccolo's Love Slave
Summary: (Finished) A infant Namek ends up somehow on the world of two moons and the Wolfriders have a hand in it's upbringing. Elfquest (c) by WaRP Graphics, DBZ (c) by it's AT


Foundling An Elfquest/Dragonball Z Crossover Experiment By Ami E. Bowen  
  
(Author's Note: I know that the Namek elder is not Piccolo's 'father' but for the sake of this fan-fic, he is.just go with it. Okay)  
  
Part One:  
  
"Where are you going, Yellowthorn?" The voice was sleepy and came from under the pile of furs that had been scrunched up in the corner of her sleepnest; "It's not dark-time yet. No need to get up now."  
  
"Oh, Go back to sleep, Darksnow." The mahogany-maned elf said, shaking her long tresses about her shoulders and replaiting her one side-braid, "I know how much you enjoy it."  
  
In answer, her latest lovemate rolled over and buried his pale-haired head deeper into the furs. He was snoring even before she'd donned her boots and tied the leather strips in place. She shrugged and made her way out of the den, an empty basket slung across her forearm. She meant to go berry picking this morning and had been planning the outing for some time.  
  
The holt was as silent as new snow falling in the hours just before nightfall. She was a bit surprised at this, even though her people were night-acting creatures by habit and design, in the days of the hot-sun season there were normally at least some still up and about, enjoying the weather.  
  
Hmm, She thought as she called to Hardpaw, her aged wolf friend, who came running to her, eager, as always to be going someplace, Must have over-did it on dreamberries at the gathering the night before. She touched the side of her head with her finger-tip, thankful for the trace of healer blood running through her veins which allowed her to ease her head's ache that morning.  
  
** Hunt now, Elf-friend? ** Hardpaw sent her an image of a rather fat waddle-foot caught between bloodied wolf jaws.  
  
** Not today, my friend. ** Yellowthorn's amber eyes smiled at the wolf as she walked beside him. He was too old, now, for riding, and she knew that he was just dreaming if he thought he was still able to catch a waddle- foot. For all that they were somewhat clumsy on land, they were too soon in the air where they were extremely quick. It took a skilled archer to hit one once it was airborn. She wiggled the basket which, Reed, their gentle plantshaper, had made for her a few days ago. ** We are going to pick berries today.**  
  
The old wolf snuffled in disgust at the image she sent to him showing herself surrounded by juicy red berries, a basketful, and himself sitting next to her, looking bored. She caught the vauge impression that the wolf agreed with her image of his boredom. She giggled but didn't say or send anything and the wolf, long accustomed to following where she led, continued to do so.  
  
They hadn't gone far, in fact, the berry bushes were just ahead. She couldn't wait to try the redhazel and blackfruit berries. Reed had been out a few days before and said they were the ripest and fattest this season than he's ever seen them in recent history. Abruptly, the wolf halted, his gray-flecked ears, the right one with a tip missing from a fight with a longtooth he'd gotten into seasons past, pricked and swiveled, listening to something the elf's keen ears were already starting to pick up.  
  
"What in the.?" Yellowthorn paused, looked about and listened again, "Something is there. It sounds odd..."  
  
** Funny smell, too ** Hardpaw sent, sniffing the air, ** Like little one.but.strange.**  
  
"Could it be humans?" She sniffed, but did not smell any of the five- fingered ones around at all. In fact, she only smelled.forest.and a faint hint of something that only seemed like it belonged here. She shrugged and decided that she'd better take a look. Hardpaw whined a bit but agreed to lead her to the odd-strange smell.  
  
As they approached, Yellowthorn could smell it better and better until her sensitive nose was overwhelmed. The wolf padded towards a small opening set into a rock-side and peered in, growling deep in his throat. Yellowthorn shoved him aside and got down on her hands and knees, peering into the darkness herself.  
  
The scent was the strongest here. She listened and heard small whimpering sounds, as of a wolf cub hurt and afraid. But she knew that no wolf-cub was inside that cave. The only comfort she knew was that it was not human either. She knew what they smelled like and this was definitly not human.  
  
Well, nothing for it but. She said to herself as she started to reach inside. The opening was only large enough for a small animal to fit and she meant to reach in and bring out whatever it was that was within. She didn't stop to think that maybe leaving it be would have been the better choice. Yellowthorn was often reckless and spontaneous. Sometimes it yeilded disaster, sometimes it brought joy. It was a risk the headstrong female was willing to make, in either case, if her fellow holt-members were not.  
  
Hardpaw watched, keeping some distance away, as his elf-friend pulled out the snarling, wriggling.thing.from the cave's dark maw. She stood up and held it out at an arm's length from her face, studying it as one might study some bizarre piece of rock spewed up from the stream, her head tilted in consentration, eyes narrowed.  
  
As if sensing something was happening, the little thing stopped its snarling and wriggling and became still. It's dark eyes focused on the elf's amber orbs and they stayed that way, for more than a few heartbeats. Then, almost as suddenly, the thing opened it's mouth, a gray-blue tongue was revealed and let out a scream that made both wolf and elf ears hurt. Cringing, Hardpaw lay down on the ground and covered his head with his paw, trying in vain to shut out the horrible high-pitched squeal.  
  
"Oh." Yellowthorn drew it to her and cooed under her breath, "Hardpaw! Stop cowering! It's just a cub! It's lost, I think. But, where's its mother.?"  
  
She looked down at the infant she now held in the crook of her arm, and frowned. It was a baby all right. She could tell that blindfolded. But, what kind of baby was it? She had never seen a creature such as this before. For one thing, it was green! Not the green one gets from eating spoiled meat. It was as green as the leaves of a tree during the new-green time. As green as the grass she was standing on. It had large, tapered ears much like her own and small, curious 'stalks' above each eye. The child still looked scared and had begun crying again as she stared at it. Gingerly, she touched one of the 'stalks' with her finger and it quieted, making a contented gurgling sound as it's eyes closed.  
  
Curious, Yellowthorn lifted the wrappings it had been bound in and gasped at what she saw. "It has no.it's neither male nor female.how can this be? What in Timmorn's Name are you, little one?"  
  
As if in answer, the infant snuggled closer to her, grasping a lock of her long hair in it's small, clawed hand. She sighed and thought, Well, I can't keep thinking of you as 'it' I'll have to call you something and since you look to be male.if you had any gender at all.so I'll refer to you from now on as 'he'. Oh, but, where are your parents?  
  
She looked around and sniffed the air but the only scent she smelled now was herself, her wolf-friend and now.this funny little green cub she held. She decided in an instant to take him back to the holt. She knew he'd be welcomed far more had he been anothr elf, but as least he wasn't a human so he had that going for him.  
  
"What shall I call you, little one?" Yellowthorn asked, speaking to herself mostly, but the babe opened his eyes to gaze up at her, as if waiting for an answer, "Well, you look like a green leaf.and your so tiny.sooo.how about.Littleleaf?"  
  
She smiled and said it a few times, liking the sound of it. ** Yes. Your name is Littleleaf. ** She sent to him, half out of habit, half out of experimentation, to see if he could receive her mind-touches. To her astonished delight, the infant could! It was evident by a slight widening of his eyes as her adult mind brushed against his infant one.  
  
*~*~*~  
  
"Where is it?" The voice was soft and deadly, as if it knew it did not have speak loudly to be heard and feared.  
  
"Don't worry, Master. The infant will be of no threat to you now. It has been sent to another time and dimention." It added, almost under it's breathe, "As well as another planet!"  
  
"Good. Good. We must get on with our plans, then."  
  
"As always, Master." The voice was almost gleeful now, "The dragon balls."  
  
"If that child should ever grow up and come back to this world." A tinge of fear crept into the voice.  
  
"Have no fear of that, Master." Answered his minion, "There is no way that child will even survive that long.The harshness of that world."  
  
"Let's hope not." He snapped, with more than a touch of ice, "For your sake."  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Oooh! What is it?" One of the cubs asked, standing on tip-toe to look into the blankets Yellowthorn held to her breast protectively, "Can I see?"  
  
"You'll all get your turns, Redblossom!" Yellowthorn answered, laughing, "I found Littleleaf while I was berry-picking.or, at least, about to be berry- picking."  
  
"Looks to me like you picked up something else to me, girl." Said gruff Half-Eye, whose left eye, the sight nearly gone due to an infection long ago, was the cause of his name, came forward. He took the bundle into his own capable arms and hefted the infant high above his whiskered face to look at it. "By my beard.!" He exclaimed, his one blue eye rounding with surprise, "Lad's green!"  
  
"Aye, Father." Yellowthorn laughed, "And he's not an apple to be tossed about, best hand him back now before he gets sick and you truly have something to be shocked about!"  
  
Without further word, the male hands the cub back over to his waiting daughter. "Least his ears are right." He grumbled beneath his breath. His daughter giggled beneath her hand as she used her other to straighten Littleleaf back into place against her arm.  
  
As she expected, the chief, Tanner, was too busy with his own activities, mainly that of the tanning of hides and the making of dyes into different, more vibrant hues, to worry much over Yellowthorn's foundling. Even if he did appear to be green with funny things sticking out of his head. As Half- Eye said earlier; At least his ears were right. It's not as if she'd brought back a human cub, afterall.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"I'm not sure what to fed him." Yellowthorn said. She was in her mother's den, talking with the older woman as she so often did, especially when a problem presented itself. The clear-thinking, serene Brightspear seemed to always know a way around a problem whenever her daughter presented her with one. "I've tried milk from one of the whelping-wolves, but he does not take to it. Even Cloudlily's offered up her own, which she needs for the twins, you know, and nothing. I can't understand it. A cubling needs nourishment, doesn't it? How is he ever going going to grow without it?"  
  
"He is not a wolfrider, Daughter." Brightspear answered, smiling at the swaddled, sleeping little one her daughter held, "He is not even an elf. Anyone with eyes can see that. Perhaps where he is from, one does not drink milk as an infant. He does not look to be suffering any ill effects, now does he?"  
  
"I suppose not." Yellowthorn said, "I gave him some water from my flask the day I found him and he seemed to like that well enough."  
  
"Perhaps that is all he needs." Brightspear said, "He will let you know, in his own way, if he needs more."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was Reed's turn to cubsit that afternoon. The new one, Littleleaf, had been with them for nearly four hands of days now. He wasn't nearly as small as they had all first thought and, in days, the child had been crawling, seeking out the more sun-filled spots about the holt and sitting for hours on end, soaking up the light like a flower held in the darkness too long soaked up the sunlight upon first being set back into it's glow.  
  
Reed wondered about that. With his green skin, needing only water and love of sunlight, he thought that the name Yellowthorn had given him did, indeed, fit. Probably too well.  
  
He lay back in the tall grass and closed his brown eyes, his russet coloured hair falling in lank strands across his forehead and down his shoulders as he dozed off. The wolves were nearby, they would let him know if any of the cubs got into trouble or wandered off. Absently, his hands held a broken stick he had found. In his sleep he used his treeshaper's magic to grow new leaves and odd shapes out of the little twig.  
  
Littleleaf crawled over. He'd long lost the interest of the other children, who at first thought of him as odd and something to be stared at.at times poked with a stick if no elder was watching. After a bit the cubs found other things to do and he was left alone again. Which was thankful. He was still very small, much smaller than any of them, and he did not much care for being poked anyway, even if the marks they made were soon to heal over and disapear.  
  
He knew this one, this big one was one of the nice ones. He always seemed to feel.stronger somewhat in his presence, he did not understand why. All he knew what that he liked this one. Littleleaf curled up next to the plantshaper and watched the twig grow and twist and turn within the sleeping elf's hands. Without thinking, for indeed, what very young child has any ability to logic? Littleleaf reached out and took ahold of that nearly glowing bit of stick.  
  
And cried out in pain. Reed's eyes flew open and he gasped at what he saw. Littleleaf sat there, his fingers were in his mouth and he was sucking them loudly. A look of pain and surprise written across his small, pudgy green face. Reed carefully coaxed the little hand out of the mouth and with a quick intake of breath, saw the unthinkable. There, just below the nail of his forefinger.a small leaf had been starting to unfurl. The cub chewed it off his finger, spat it out and continued to cry.  
  
Reed looked at the stick he held, and knew his magic had been shaping it, as he often did while he slept, it helped to relax him. But, this.this using his magic on people.on non-plants.this was something new.something new and not altogether pleasant.  
  
Wait! He stopped himself. Non-plants? Why didn't he think it before? Of all the fuddleheaded.A slow grin spread across his face as realization struck home at last. He picked up Littleleaf and, making certain the others were still playing safe around the protective wolves, hurried off to share his findings with Yellowthorn.  
  
"What do you mean he's a plant?!" Yellowthorn cried, her brows coming down suddenly over darkened eyes, "He's a baby! Anyone can see that, you fluff- headed."  
  
"No, no, Yellowthorn!" Reed was so excited that he got the child wailing once more, this time out of fear rather than pain, "Listen to me, you don't understand."  
  
After he had explained what happened, Yellowthorn shook her head. This time, not with anger, but with bewhilderment. She looked at the child and said; "Will you never stop making my poor head spin, little one?"  
  
"I guess now we know why he only takes to water and sunlight, huh?" Reed asked, smiling at the child, "And why he always seemed to like me."  
  
"Hmph." Yellowthorn snickered, "I wouldn't be warming a spot beside me for awhile after that little insident, Reed. I don't think Littleleaf here wants to be 'shaped' again anytime soon!"  
  
"But, it was only.I didn't really mean to.I mean." Reed sputtered, trying to apologize, "He shouldn't have touched the stick I was working on."  
  
"You shouldn't have been asleep, lazy-bones." Yellowthorn countered, "Weren't you soppose to be watching the cubs?"  
  
"Yes and I'm still." He stopped, gaped open mouthed for half-a-moment, "I have to go, Yellowthorn!"  
  
Yellowthorn laughed as he scrambled out of the den and ran back to the children he had left, unattended save for the wolves and no doubt went about the job of counting heads to be certain they were all still there. Save for the one she now held, of course. Plant-cub or not.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Redblossom was old enough, now, to go hunting ravvits on her own. She just wished she didn't have to take Littleleaf with her. He was such a pest. He was always following her around and getting into stuff. She could count on both hands the times she'd gotten him out of trouble or taken the blame for something he did! It wasn't fair! He wasn't even her real little brother!  
  
"Hey, Red! Wait up!" She groaned as she forced a smile, slowing down so he could catch up with her, "I can't walk as fast as you! Your bigger than me, remember?"  
  
"How could I forget, Twig?" She said, patting him on his hair-less head, she'd started calling him Twig almost from the moment she laid eyes on him, but, as he grew, his lankiness giving way to muscle, she decided that she needed to find a new nickname for him.  
  
She lifted him up onto her shoulders, and realized that he had indeed been growing, he was much heavier than he used to be, and continued to walk through the forest away from the holt. "Have you gone Ravvit hunting before, Red?" He asked, as he grasped double hand-fulls of her white-gold hair, trying to keep upright.  
  
** Send now, Pest! ** She touched his mind with her own, the light annoyance barely concealing the underlying tenderness she really felt for him, ** You don't want to scare them away, do you? **  
  
** Nope! **  
  
The hunt had been unsuccessful. But, first hunts alone.or with little brothers.often are. Redblossom shrugged it off and decided, next time, she would go alone and have no distractions. Littleleaf would just have to be content to stay in the holt with Yellowthorn and the others when the time came.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The Namek elder hadn't smiled in over six years. He watched over his children, as always, and gave advice when it was needed, of course, but no one could seem to releive him of his dark mood. He had fallen into a near fatal depression. Or so everyone thought. His people were beginning to fret.  
  
"What could have happened to him?" He was often heard muttering to himself as he walked among the straight rows of plants they grew to keep their planet green and beautiful, "Another dimention.but where?"  
  
"You know what you must do, don't you, Eldest One?" A small Namek adult was standing next to him, almost hidden behind the elder's girth, "You must use the dragon balls to wish him back to this place and time."  
  
"Of course." He replied, how could he have not seen the answer.it was right before him, staring him in the eye! "But, that's easier said than done, Sendre. All the balls have been scattered all over again.there is no telling where they are.now."  
  
"So, get the Earthlings to aide you in your quest." Sendre offered, but his eyes gleamed with a look the Elder, actually, his father, failed to see. "I'm sure, given the right insentive, they would be of great help."  
  
"Perhaps." He said, not really listening, "We have to get him back, you know. He has a prophecy to fulfill."  
  
"So, getting all seven balls together again has greater importance than ever, Eldest One."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Did you speak with him as I ordered?" The voice was cold, so cold that Sendre almost shivered, had he not caught himself, "What of the quest?"  
  
"It is going as planned, Master." Sendre said, "The old fart has agreed to find the missing dragon balls.to wish his offspring back into this dimention."  
  
"Which will never happen, Sendre." He cackled, it sounded like water hitting dry ice, "When the Eldest Namek has collected all the balls, That is when we shall strike and I shall take them for myself.and make the ultimate wish!"  
  
"It will be grand, will it not, Master?" Sendre laughed. They both laughed maincally until Sendre was suddenly smacked on the side of the head and sent reeling; "What are you standing around here for, Imbecile! Get to work and find those dragon balls!!"  
  
"Yes, Master!" Sendre hasted to make amends, bowing and scraping pathetically, "Right away, Master! I go!"  
  
"Hmph! It's so hard to find good help these days."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The seasons came and went, two to be exact, and the elves celebrated new life as well as death as the circle continued to turn. Yellowthorn and Reed recognized, which was almost as much a shock to them as it was to the others, especially Darksnow, who, even though he had stopped sleeping in the same den as Yellowthorn, still harbored a large amount of love in his heart for the reckless female. But, even he knew that their number was small and any cublings, no matter how they came about, were welcome.  
  
Yellowthorn, even though round with the coming cubling, did not relish the idea of settling down with just one elf, be he her recognized or not, and choice instead to den with her mother, father and Littleleaf. Neither her parents nor Littleleaf seemed to mind the crowdedness.  
  
Late one evening, Half-Eye and Brightspear asleep beside them, curled into each other as lifemates as old as they often did, Yellowthorn lay awake with Littleleaf beside her, listening to the sounds of the forest at night. Finally, unable to stay silent any longer, the child spoke up; "Yellowthorn, what is it like? Having another person inside you? I'd think it's be very uncomfortable."  
  
Stifling a giggle, Yellowthorn reached across in the darkness and found the little green hand. She placed it on her belly and said; "Not so bad as some might think, little one." Littleleaf gasped as he felt the skin ripple beneath his palm and nearly drew his hand away again, instead he stayed it and became silent, listening and feeling; "He sounds like he wants out, Yellowthorn."  
  
"Soon, Littleleaf." Yellowthorn said, smiling in the darkness, "He'll be out soon enough."  
  
"How does he get out of you?" Littleleaf asked, curious, "Do you have to cut him out of there?"  
  
This time, Yellowthorn could not help a burst of laughter. She hugged him to her side and said; "No, cub. There is a place between a female's legs that a cubling can emerge from, perfect and healthy. It is the way of things."  
  
From the the awed 'Oh' sound next to her, Yellowthorn realized that although her explaination lacked certain clarification, he seemed to understand for the most part. Being raised in the holt, he'd seen males and females and noticed the differences between the two, the way the females relieved themselves and they way the males did.  
  
He knew that the females had a funny little opening between their legs that he he thought, now, that Yellowthorn was telling him that her baby would come out of. He did not have what Half-Eye had and he did not have what Yellowthorn did, but he never really thought very hard about it, it never seemed to matter much. They all loved him as he was, regardless of what he had or had not.  
  
Still, as he became older, he was more curious about what other's had and how they worked. Yellowthorn and her upcoming cubling only served to fuel his curiousity. He asked her a million and one questions ranging from how she made water to recognition and joining to the birth of the child, when it was due. For her part, Yellowthorn did not mind the questions and somewhat enjoyed their long conversations in which she attempted, to the best of her ability, to answer them all for him. For an elf, modesty was pretty much unheard of, so none of his questions embarraced her.  
  
Early one morning, Yellowthorn felt the first stirrings of labor and woke Littleleaf along with her Mother and Father.  
  
"It's time." Was all she needed to say. She had already sent a message to Reed, that he should get his butt to her den if her wanted to greet his newborn into the world. Brightspear helped clear the den to make room for the birth. Littleleaf sat in the corner, out of the way, but still within the group and able to see what was happening. Yellowthorn smiled over at him before the pains started in ernest.  
  
It took a little less than three hours for the child to come out. Yellowthorn, her face beaded with sweat, but happy because she had heard her child's soulname within her heart and head and that she had her family with her to share in this most magical of moments.  
  
The infant was a female. Wrapping her up in soft light purple blankets tanned and dyed by their chief himself, who stood waiting outside of word of the cubling, Brightspear handed her to the waiting mother.  
  
Pealing back the cover from her little red face, Yellowthorn motioned for Littleleaf to come closer; "Here we are, Littleleaf." She whispered, her throat sore from emotion, "What do you think of her?"  
  
He looked down at her and squeezed his eyes into slits, studying her, finally he looked at Yellowthorn and said; "She's awfully small, isn't she? And she doesn't look very happy."  
  
"Oh, she's just hungry." Yellowthorn said; "I'll fix that in a moment. What do you think we should call her?"  
  
A name seemed to come out the air into his head. He didn't know where he'd heard this name before, if ever. It felt as if, maybe, he had known someone with the name once or would know.in another lifetime. Without hesitating a moment longer, Littleleaf whispered the name into Yellowthorn's ear, making her eyes light up.  
  
"What a perfect name." She sighed, and kissed the tip of the baby's tiny nose; she whispered, "Ryven."  
  
The name just felt.right.  
  
~*~*~*~ The last dragonball was in place. Sendre smiled to himself, remembering countless nights without rest, days spend searching, being aided by those with the skill and equiptment needed to make the search successful and nearly rubbed his hands together gleefully.  
  
He stopped himself, of course. He did not want the Namek elder to know his secret desires.he did not want anyone to know. He watched the elder breathing as he gazed on those shiny, orangish balls.who would ever guess at the power those seemingly trinkets held.  
  
They had, of course, given the Earthlings who had helped them insentive. By promising to make them so wealthy their eyes would bulge out, they had been nearly unstoppable in their search. That Sendre had no intention of following through with his promise did not phase him. If all went well, and there was no reason to think it would not, he would not have to worry about promises make to others ever again.  
  
"It's time, Sendre." The Namek elder announced, "We must call the dragon now."  
  
Sendre nodded, looking serene. He knew that soon his master would be there to snatch up the balls and victory would his. Not once did Sendre stop to wonder if his master would keep his promise to him.  
  
The sky was changing. It was darkening and the winds were picking up, scattering dead leaves and other debris into little dustdevils all around them. Suddenly, the sky rigght above them became so bright that Sendre had to avert his eyes, lest they be damaged. The elder did no such thing. Bravely, he faced the light and slowly a shape formed of that light.  
  
It was the dragon! Beautiful and deadly all at the same time. Sendre peered between his fingers and nearly fell down in awe, the sight affected him so. He had heard the tales, of course, who hadn't. But, to actually be there, in the dragon's presence, was another thing altogether.  
  
"Name your wish." It's voice was low and strong, loud and unshakable. Sendre was reminded of moutains and rocks and other things unspeakably anceint and enduring. The dragon's voice echoed within his head and stirred his blood. A primal fear washed over him, as old as time itself and not to be denied.  
  
Now's your chance! He said to himself, forcing himself out of his reverie, out of the state of fear and awe that he had succumbed to. He opened his mouth, blue-gray tongue flashing over suddenly dry lips, moving his lips, trying to speak.  
  
"No!" He looked up, and saw his master arriving, just as he had known, in his heart of hearts, that he would, "Stop! That wish is mine!"  
  
The elder spun in place, eyes wide, teeth clenched in rage at being interrupted when all his hard work was just about to come to fruitation. He know that he had to get his child back.he just had to!  
  
And if he had to kill to do it. So be it.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"So, then what happened?" The elf who sat next to him looked up at him with large eyes. Not as large as the eyes of the Wolfrider elves, but large non- the-less. She had been with him for nearly three years now and more often than not her childlike way irritated him, though he tried his best not to let her know this. It only worked half the time. She seemed able to read his moods like some could read tea leaves in the bottem of a just-emptied cup.  
  
The story he was telling her to get her to quiet and go back to sleep as he often did since the dreams had not yet left her nor, to his thinking, would they until she came to grips with what they were and what they meant for her to learn.about the past and herself, was one that his sire, the Namek elder had told him once apon a time ago.  
  
The years since then and now seemed so far that he had trouble recalling exact dates and times. When one was always in meditation, one did not count the passage of time as readily as those who are always on one plane of thought. He smiled to himself and thought that Yellowthorn would have called it the now of wolf-thought. Perhaps he had retained some of the wolfrider's ways.even after so long.  
  
She stared up at him, her yellow-gold hair reaching her shoulders and held back from her face by a band of leather, feathers dangled and danced in the evening breeze about her tapered ears.  
  
"Obviously, Ryven." He said, with just a ghost the half-smile that adorned his green face at times when he was speaking to her, "The elder succeeded. I am here now, am I not?"  
  
She looked thoughtful and listened as he discribed the battle that took place between the elder Namek, the one who betrayed him and that one's cold and ruthless 'Master'. The battle that had been discribed to him long ago.  
  
"Do you miss them, Sensei?" Ryven asked, folding her little hands in her lap, her familiar, her wolf-friend, lay at her feet, muzzle across her knees.  
  
"Some days." Was his reply, "Some days I miss them a great deal. Now, lay down and close your eyes. We have a lot of work ahead of us."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Yellowthorn's daughter, Ryven, watched her mother as she lay peacefully in the sleepfurs. Her father was beside her, holding her trembling hand in his own. Reed had always been there for her, even now, at this most sorrowful time, he was her oak in which to shade her and keep her from falling into her own greif.  
  
"She looks at peace." Reed said, reaching out to stroke her mother's cheek lightly, "She will never again want for comfort or food."  
  
Reed's voice broke. His tears began and she knew they must. Her own tears would come later, when she was alone and could allow the dam that held her emotions in check to break. She looked closer at her mother's body, for that was all she was now, a body. Her spirit had already fled. She could feel it around her, surrounding her with love. Something was there, just beneath the top fur. She lifted the cover back to see what it was her mother held in her arms.  
  
"What is that?" She asked, pointing. Reed swallowed, wiped at his face with the back of his hand and looked. It was a small figure, make of wood. He smiled, remembering. "It's the gift I made for her, a long time ago." He told his only daughter, who looked so much like her mother, save for her eyes being a different hue, "I didn't know she still kept it.after all this time.and the flood.the moving."  
  
Ryven took the little figure into her own hands, turning it about, staring at it. It was of a cubling, that much she could see. But how old. He'd been painted green using the dyes Tanner uses on his leathers, some of having chipped away over time. It looked almost like an elf.but not. She handed it to her father, who looked down at it and remembered.something not easily done by one who had a lot of wolf-blood in their viens.  
  
"Who is it, Father?" She asked, "Why was she holding it so tight?"  
  
Reed placed the little wooden figure back into his lifemate's cold grip, against her chest and under her chin. They would give her body to the forest and the wolves that night. But he did not want to think on that. Not yet.  
  
"He was your brother." Reed said, and knew his lifemate was pleased at his words, he could feel her happiness as she floated, in spirit, around him and her daughter. "His name was Littleleaf."  
  
~ The End ~ 


End file.
